Losing

Losing isn't an option for a certain boy in our house. There isn't any activity that can't be turned into a competition.

"Ha ha...I beat you Amaya!" Rio gloats.

"I wasn't racing Rio!" Amaya argues.

"But I still beat you..." He tells Amaya so she knows the end result is the same either way... he wins.

This is the argument after everything Rio does.  Everything is a race.  Brushing teeth, getting dressed, eating, buckling a seat belt, running to the front door, there isn't any activity that can't be turned into a competition.  And if he isn't first...forget it.  He will have a full fledged melt down.

It doesn't matter who wins or loses, it's how you play the game, is the usual line used to console upset children after a loss.

But that line means nothing to a child whose sole objective in life is to win. In fact, I'm a little more like Rio than I admit. When I hear parents say this to their children, my first thought is: that's what people who lose say to feel better. I know, I'm terrible, I can't help it.

My second thought is: it is a lie, people play games to win.  My third thought is: it matters! to the kid who lost and is upset.

While good sportsmanship is crucial, the truth is there isn't a high like winning, and there isn't a low like losing.  And that's okay. I hate losing! I've just developed skills to control my emotions better.

"It's okay to want to win, it's not okay to cry if you lose," Rio is reminded frequently.

This way I don't trivialize his desire to compete. So far it's working beautifully.

Sick and Tired

February started just as pleasantly as January.  I'm being punished for skipping the flu shot. 

Today I woke up feeling better but exhausted.  The cough that has moved in is keeping me up all night so during the day all I want to do is sleep. 

Sleeping causes other problems.  I wake up to a puddle of wetness on my pillow and my sleeve with my hair plastered to the side of my face.  Even in sleep I'm aware of the torturous sore throat I have.  The drooling is completely involuntary.

It's Monday.  So imagine my excitement of sending the kids off to school.  First I drag Amaya out of bed by her ankles.

"Get up!"  I yell.  "You're going to be late."  This is due to me hitting  the snooze button repeatedly.

I go into Rio's room.  I try to shake him conscious.  He's burning up.

"Mom, my throat hurts,"  he complains.

I grab a flashlight to inspect his tonsils.  After all I am a throat expert.

"Uh-oh..."  I say.  "Looks like you're staying home." 

Then I remember.  What about my sleep?  I'm devastated. 

"You know if you stay home today, you're staying in bed?" 

"I know." 

"No video games, TV, or playing outside."

He was fine with that. So we slept all day.

The only thing worse than waking up on my own saturated pillowcase, is rolling over into his.  

♥

Where There's Smoke There's Fire

Snuggling by a roaring fire next to the fireplace is relaxing and cozy.  Not if you live in my house.  Here,  a fire is lit and sends excitement through the air.

I was in the shower and Amaya came barging in.  Slapping her hand against the glass, pressing a piece of paper against the fogged shower door.

"Do we need this?"  She asked impatiently.

"What is it?"  I yelled over the water.

"I don't know, do we need it?  I don't want to go."  She stated with urgency.

I tried to make out the writing through the glass and it appeared to be a flier advertising a play.

"No we don't need it,"  I answered.

"Good, then I'm gonna burn it,"  she said, and a little too enthusiastic for my comfort.

Naturally concerned, I went into the family room and found where all the excitement was taking place.  The kids sat in front of the fireplace, each with their own piles of papers collected throughout the house to burn.  There was old homework papers, coupons, book marks, candy wrappers, grocery store ads, Rio's old shoes...if it could catch fire it was in their piles.

"Is this a good idea?"  I asked the other grown-up in the room.  But my husbands eyes were glossed over, starring at the fire with the kids.

I snapped my fingers, "Helloooo."

"What? I've got it under control," he said shooing me away. "It's fine."

Since then, many important papers have gone missing around the house and my husband can't think of where they could of gone.

"I have no idea,"  I tell him.